Each to Each
by Jade Sabre
Summary: In which Edward has a minute to make a decision.


**Title:** "Each to Each"

**Author:** Jade Sabre

**Notes:** I was displeased with the ending of _Enchanted_ and felt that my favorite character was slighted, in the end, and thought I'd try my hand at giving him a chance to speak for himself.

**Disclaimer:** _Enchanted_ and all its characters and settings are the property of Disney and not of myself; if I were in charge, Giselle would never have lost her innocence.

* * *

_  
Do I dare_

_Disturb the universe? _

_In a minute there is time _

_For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse._

"True love's kiss," the stranger (Robert? Robert maybe. Or Ronald. Ronald? No, not Ronald, must be Robert) said, gesturing at the sleeping (oh he hoped she was only sleeping oh please oh please only be sleeping) girl on the couch.

Ah yes! Of course! True love's kiss! Why hadn't he thought of that? Probably because he was too busy panicking because his beloved (his _true_ love) was prone on a couch after having sampled a poisoned apple that seemed to have come from a mysterious hag or something and oh _no_ poison not poison—but Edward was certain that the stranger Robert was correct, and that true love's kiss would break whatever horrid spell was cast over his beautiful, beautiful Giselle.

Anxiously he knelt at her side. He hadn't been kidding about that "dreaming of my true love's kiss" thing—he'd been anticipating this moment for a full forty-eight hours now, possibly the longest he'd ever had to wait for anything (aside from inheriting his dead father's throne and finding the whereabouts of his true love oh what a happy day that had been) and even though she was sleeping and he hadn't had a chance to chew garlic like his stepmother had suggested as the perfect way to impress her, he was certain that this moment would still be as special as he had imagined.

Oh Giselle! Oh poor, sleeping, beautiful, lovely Giselle! She lay so helplessly on the couch, and he was going to rescue her. Oh bliss, oh rapture! He carefully leaned over her, trying to prepare himself for the happiest moment of his life so far—

His lips touched hers and _ah_ it was just as wonderful as he had thought it was going to be for her lips were as soft as the loving words that fell from them even though they were a bit cold because she might be _dying_ oh Giselle! but soon her lips would be rosy and warm again and everything would be—

would be—

She hadn't moved. Her lips were not turning rosy but were—he pressed his lips to hers again, not as gentle as before but more urgently, assuring her of his love through his kiss, kissing her promises of many duets and dances to come—

It occurred to Edward that _something was wrong_.

He stared down at her placid face. What could possibly be going wrong? He had kissed her, and yet there she lay, looking exactly as she had _before_ the most blissful moment of his life so far, as if it _hadn't _been the most blissful moment of her life so far, as if she somehow, impossibly, was not with him, smiling and bubbling with warmth and joy and beauty, but that was ridiculous for she was his true love—they had sung together, he had rescued her, they were going to be _married_, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, she was—

she was—

Still not moving.

Edward wondered if—

He saw her as he had first seen her, falling out of a tree and into his arms as if she had been made to fit there, so tiny and so alive all at once, and how everything seemed to brighten the moment he first heard her voice calling through the woods. How they had been dreaming of the same thing forever and always, how their voices blended so prettily together, how she smiled at him, how that cute little strand of hair hung over her nose (though truthfully he didn't know how she could put up with it, that would drive him _crazy_ to have his hair so out of place, but on her it was just right). How he had never wanted anything more in his life because he had never realized that there_was_ something more, something so much more than trolls or Nathaniel's lectures, how he had sung of true love but never really known it until she had called to him without knowing it (and yet had their hearts not been calling them together all the days of their life?).

He saw her saying goodbye to the little girl (Morgan? Madeline? No, shorter than Madeline, must be Morgan) and to Robert before their date (which had been a very strange experience, he couldn't imagine putting off being married to your true love for the sake of eating a hot dog which had nothing to do with dogs but was in fact very tasty), sad and hopeful all at once. He saw her as she had been moments ago, saying she was fine but not wanting to leave, some spark missing from her face and he had thought it was just the cold (her dress was _ridiculously _flimsy although it graced her frame as if she born to wear it, just as all her dresses did; she dressed as a princess, able to turn the least garment into something woven from threads of pure gold) but maybe it wasn't the cold maybe it was the fact that she was no longer waltzing. He saw her waltzing but not waltzing, simply dancing and spinning with sheer joy, and Edward wondered if—

if—

And Edward looked at her, and then he turned away, and he looked, and he knew; and he pointed at the stranger, and he said, "You."


End file.
